


Blood Moon

by tiigi



Category: Hemlock Grove, IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Explicit Sexual Content, Like 2 years, M/M, Possessive Behaviour, Roman is an asshole, unhealthy relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:40:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22631179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiigi/pseuds/tiigi
Summary: “You Denbrough?” Roman asks with a careless flip of his hair. The boy gives a stilted nod and now it’s Roman’s turn to frown, because he’s not at all how Roman imagined him. He’s not a toddler for a start, he must be at least sixteen, and he’s not bad looking. Roman doesn’t make a habit of going after guys because they live in a homophobic little shithole and he doesn’t give a fuck what anybody thinks of him but it’s much easier to actually get laid when you know the person you’re flirting with actually might be attracted to you.***Roman is given an ultimatum: either he tutors Bill for extra credit, or he flunks out. He’s not happy about it until he is.
Relationships: Bill Denbrough/Roman Godfrey
Comments: 58
Kudos: 85





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of a cracky crossover because I love the idea of Roman existing in the IT universe :D that being said, he’s really not that great of a person so there may be homophobic/misogynistic comments that might make some people uncomfortable. Nothing too bad, just.... icky.
> 
> Also, I’m really just writing this for fun. It’s kind of in a weird style that isn’t like my other fics at all so yeah just a warning on that lol
> 
> Anyway I hope you enjoy! <3

Roman has to meet the brat in the library after lunch. They both have a free period then according to Mrs Douglas and if he wants to make up extra credit then Roman has to tutor the kid until he gets an A in his fucking pop quiz or whatever. He has better things to be doing for sure, but thanks to his mother’s dumb fucking rules, if he wants to inherit the company any time soon then he has to graduate first. It’s bullshit and everybody knows it’s just another way for the heartless bitch to punish him but, like, it’s algebra. Whatever. Roman can do algebra until his eyeballs bleed and if it helps him pass his class then he’ll spend a few hours with an eight grader.

Peter is not so happy about it. He voices his complaints as they’re stood with their backs to the wall a little way down the road from school. They can’t smoke on school grounds and Roman has been caught with lit cigarettes too many times to take chances on his graduation so he and Peter make at least two trips down here a day. They’re both compulsive smokers and they’ll probably die before they’re thirty, but Roman is better than Peter at blowing smoke rings so fuck that guy. 

“Dude,” he’s saying, words muffled as he cups his hands around his mouth and tries to light his cigarette for the third time. Roman is going to be super pissed if he wasted a journey and a cigarette because of Peter’s piece-of-shit lighter that looks like it’s from the 1970s. Dude only holds onto it because it looks ‘neat’ or some bullshit. 

“You seriously have to give up your free time?” Peter asks incredulously, finally managing to light the end of his fag with the tiniest flame before he’s moving on to Roman’s. “For like, an hour? You have to do a kid’s homework?”

“Yeah, basically.” Roman rolls his eyes, snatching the lighter out of Peter’s hands. Who even needs a vintage lighter anyway if it doesn’t fucking light anything? At this rate he’s going to be in a pissy mood for whatever prepubescent teenager he has to go and hold hands with and then the brat will report back to Mrs Douglas that Roman was mean and he won’t get his extra credit and he won’t inherit the company and it’ll all be because of Peter’s shitty lighter. Typical.

“Is that, like, legal? Don’t they get paid to do that?” Cigarettes make Peter even dumber than normal.

“It’s called peer tutoring, Peter, it exists.” And what, Roman is defending this terrible idea now? It’s not bad enough that he has to do it in the first place, now he actually has to act like it doesn’t totally fucking suck? Roman is turning into his mother. He hurls Peter’s lighter at the floor in a fit of blind rage and watches with growing frustration as it bounces of the floor and a flame bursts to life and flickers away to nothing in the same second and isn’t that just fucking typical too. Peter snickers unhelpfully and crouches down to pick it up and he slides it into his pocket just as they hear the other two voices, heading towards them from the direction of the school.

Roman is worried for a fraction of a moment that it’ll be the principal stood armed with a team of angry health teachers ready to discipline them properly this time, but it turns out that this is an irrational fear because Roman could definitely fight half the staff members at this school and anyway, it turns out that the two voices belong to another two students. They aren’t so much younger than Roman and Peter, maybe a couple of years Roman guesses, but the sight of them has him on edge. There’s a guy and a girl and that’s not uncommon because couples escape down here all the time to have unprotected sex in a public place and Roman knows that from firsthand experience but it’s clear that that’s not what these two are here to do so it puts Roman on edge. Why can’t people ever just do what you think they’re going to do? 

The guy has long dark hair and round, thick framed glasses that slide down his nose and every so often he’ll fidget and push them back up and blink rapidly behind the thick glass like he’s trying to wish himself far away. The girl is only a little shorter with cropped red hair and a cigarette held between her pursed lips that stretch into a comraderly grin when she observes Roman’s plight. 

“Want a light?” She asks and the air in front of her face turns white and misty but Roman can’t tell whether it’s smoke or just puffs of her breath but it’s not like it matters so he takes the offering with a gruff ‘thank you’. The nerdy kid with the long hair and the glasses doesn’t say anything, just looks around over his shoulder again and again like he’s expecting to be tailed. Ironically enough, being in the vicinity as obviously nervous people always sets Roman’s nerves at ease because if people are uncomfortable anyway then he can go out of his way to ensure that he makes them feel extra uncomfortable and then depending on what kind of person they are they’ll think that it was Roman entirely who made them feel uncomfortable and that’s the easiest way to assert superiority over someone. He learnt that early on.

“No worries,” the girl takes the light when he hands it back to her and their fingers brush and Roman is thinking that he wishes Peter and this other loser weren’t around because he could probably persuade this chick to fuck him even though she is pretty young and not the type Roman usually goes for. It doesn’t matter anyway because she’s smiling and waving all awkward and quirky and cute and then sauntering away to find another damp alcove to smoke in. The lanky kid with glasses lopes after her with an awkward muttered, ‘goodbye’ and then Roman and Peter are left alone again.

“What if this kid is, like, really bad at it?” Peter asks. Roman pauses. He hadn’t actually considered this possibility and whilst he’d been planning to just do the kid’s homework for him so that they could both leave early, he feels less inclined to do homework for someone who hasn’t earned their place in Mrs Douglas’ class. Roman doesn’t understand his own moral compass sometimes.

“Then I guess we’re both fucked,” Roman says, because it’s true.

They start to make their way back up to school five minutes later because Peter can’t miss his Lit class and Roman has run out of cigarettes. They run into Christina on the way up and she smiles at Roman because they fucked last week, and in all honesty it wasn’t actually that bad but Roman can’t go getting a reputation for being a nice guy so he doesn’t smile back. Peter snorts in amusement and Christina flushes, goes back to staring at her feet and shuffling away from them and Roman has half a second to feel guilty before his phone pings with a new email. 

“Shit,” Roman huffs, pushing his hair out of his face and cringing at how the smell of smoke clings to his clothes. Apparently the brat’s timetable changed last minute and Roman has to go and tutor him _now_ which means he won’t have time for a nap _or_ a fuck before lunch. “I have to go.”

“Whatever, man.” Peter rolls his eyes and takes off in the other direction. Roman heads for the library without replying to Mrs Douglas’ email because if she’s going to change plans on him last minute then she doesn’t deserve a confirmation. If she has a problem with it then she can take it up with him _after_ he’s helped her toddler pass his algebra exam.

The library is practically deserted this late in the school day. There are a few seventh graders running around, happy to be out of their desks for once, but Roman heads upstairs straight away because if the dude he’s meeting chooses to sit downstairs in the library then he’s not worth Roman’s time. It’s much more chill upstairs. There are some gnarly bean bags to sit on that are older than Roman but there are computers that actually work and it’s actually quiet enough to be able to sustain a conversation. Roman sometimes comes up here to sleep when he can’t stand to be in the same house as his mother.

There are a few people upstairs, but no one that fits the mental picture Roman has created. There’s a couple of girls over in the corner reading and a boy sitting alone at a table but other than that it’s totally empty. Roman is going to be pretty fucking annoyed if he’s been stood up but he starts walking towards the boy anyway because it’ll be better for everyone if he makes sure before he goes storming off. The boy doesn’t hear him coming so Roman drops his bag on the table heavily to make a point. The boy jerks backwards in startled surprise and then glares up at Roman with his eyebrows drawn together into a frown. So maybe Roman has a reputation for being an asshole but, as if some little bitch scowling at him is going to have him apologising. 

“You Denbrough?” Roman asks with a careless flip of his hair. The boy gives a stilted nod and now it’s Roman’s turn to frown, because he’s not at all how Roman imagined him. He’s not a toddler for a start, he must be at least sixteen, and he’s not bad looking. Roman doesn’t make a habit of going after guys because they live in a homophobic little shithole and he doesn’t give a fuck what anybody thinks of him but it’s much easier to actually get laid when you know the person you’re flirting with actually might be attracted to you. 

Roman knows he’s hot. He knows most girls and some guys want to sleep with him and it’s only partially because his family is loaded, but this Denbrough kid isn’t looking at him like Roman’s looks are worth anything. That isn’t a feeling he has to deal with often and it sets his nerves on edge so he sits down and lets his legs spread open, long legs stretched out under the table encroaching on Denbrough’s space.

“I’m Roman,” Roman tells him, and holds a hand out to shake just to be an asshole. Denbrough eyes it suspiciously and looks around like there might be people hiding behind the bookshelves ready to jump out and beat the shit out of him. Eventually he has to take it or his passive aggressiveness will be acknowledged and not many people consciously choose to get on Roman’s bad side. 

“Bill,” he says. His grip is loose so Roman squeezes Bill’s hand and doesn’t bother actually shaking it.

“So, Billy,” Roman loves giving people nicknames. Most of the time they aren’t very flattering but he doesn’t want the fucker complaining to Mrs Douglas and ruining his chances for extra credit, so he keeps it PG. “What are we doing today?” 

Bill clearly doesn’t like the nickname because his cheeks flush pink with either embarrassment or irritation and it makes Roman laugh out loud a little. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all– maybe he’ll be able to find some entertainment value in his study sessions. He’s still smirking when Bill pushes a worksheet towards him without another word. Roman takes it and gives it a once over before glancing up at Bill again, confused, annoyed.

“This? You’re serious?” Roman can do algebra until his _fucking eyeballs bleed_ but this is so easy that it’s even more boring than usual. He knows he’s said the wrong thing when Bill clenches his jaw and slouches in his seat and shrugs his shoulders like the sullen teenager he almost definitely is. Roman pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and his forefinger. He can feel a headache coming on.

“You don’t have to h-help,” Bill tells him angrily, grabbing it back. Roman doesn’t miss how he trips over the last word and he has to bite down on the inclination to find a weakness and make fun of it because that doesn’t seem fair and he’s already upset Bill enough in the two minutes they’ve known each other. Like it or not, they have to get along for the next week at least. 

“Actually, I do.” Roman corrects, because what, does this kid think he’s helping out of the goodness of his heart? That’s so out of character it makes Roman laugh again and Bill doesn’t like that, huffs and curls his shoulders around himself like he’s trying to shield himself from view. Roman groans.

“Right, come on.” Roman doesn’t have a pen on him so he reaches under the table and hooks a finger through the strap of Bill’s rucksack, draws it towards himself.

“Hey!” Bill objects, but he doesn’t make any moves to grab it back so Roman is free to rummage through it until he finds a pen. Seriously though, what does this kid think Roman is going to do? Nothing Bill could have in there would shock him and maybe Bill realises this because he just sits back in his seat sulkily and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Give it here, I’ll do it.” Roman holds his hand out expectantly and waits for Bill to hand him the worksheet, and then waits and waits some more, but Bill doesn’t move. With a sigh of irritation Roman leans over the table to snatch it away from him but Bill sits back suddenly and unexpectedly, moving it out of Roman’s reach. He’s _challenging_ Roman. What the fuck?

“Are you for real?” Roman groans. It’s one thing to sit here and do someone else’s homework for extra credit but fuck, is this bitch going to actually make Roman _tutor_ him?

“I’m not g-gonna learn anything if you just d-do it for me.” Bill points out, and so what if maybe that’s accurate because Roman does _not_ want to rely on Bill to get them out of this situation. 

“How fucking old are you? Jesus Christ.” Roman is _upset._

“More m-mature than you, for sure.” Bill replies, and there’s a strange edge to his voice that Roman picks up on, that he can’t ignore. He narrows his eyes at Bill and lifts his leg under the table, nudging his foot against Bill’s knee. Bill jerks backwards.

“Do you have a problem with me, kid?” Roman asks.

“Don’t call me that.” It’s not an answer but it also totally is an answer and seriously, Roman’s luck must be fucking awful for him to get paired with some loser who wants to do his own homework and who also coincidentally hates Roman’s guts. He’s ninety percent sure he’s never met Bill, but it’s likely he’s fucked his sister or his mom or something.

But that doesn’t mean Bill gets to be an asshole about it. Roman sits forward suddenly and it startles Bill into sitting back. His hands are clenched into fists so tight that his knuckles are turning white and his cheeks are flushed pink and it takes Roman by surprise, how badly he wants to grab Bill by his collar and kiss him. He bets that would wipe the superior look off Bill’s face, if Roman were to back him up against a wall and take him apart and show him what a whiny little bitch he is.

“Listen up, brat.” Roman leans forward slightly so he can speak in a low, quiet voice and still be heard. “You don’t have to fucking like me, okay, but if you can’t suck it up for one fucking hour then I’m out of here. Understood?”

Bill grits his teeth and for a second Roman thinks he might swing at him right there in the silent library, but after a moment’s hesitation he just slumps back in his seat and nods and doesn’t say anything. It’s clear Roman is going to have to take charge here. He doesn’t mind doing that. He does that a lot.

Bill tenses when Roman moves his chair around the table, and okay, maybe he is sitting a little closer than necessary and maybe he is enjoying the warmth of Bill’s thigh pressed against his own, but if Bill isn’t going to stop him then Roman isn’t going to stop. He’s wasting his time here, he should at least be able to hit on the guy.

The next hour sucks. Roman does his best to entertain himself, but throwing his arm over the back of Bill’s chair and trying to intertwine their legs can only get him so far, and all it does now is turn him on and leave him wanting. Bill doesn’t exactly flirt back but he does duck his head and blush and Roman wants to trace Bill’s lips with his fingers but he can’t. By the end of it he’s practically vibrating out of his seat, craving a cigarette and maybe a fuck just so he can set his mind straight. 

“For fuck’s sake, _Billy,”_ Roman complains, dropping his forehead onto the table and groaning. He almost laughs at how Bill stiffens next to him– he can feel the tension in Bill’s thigh where it’s touching his own. “You’ve done enough. Seriously, kid, that’s _enough_ for today. Just go to lunch.”

“I’m not hungry.” Bill replies, like the prissy little bitch Roman is beginning to think he is. 

“Well I fucking am,” Roman replies. “And if I don’t eat soon then I’m gonna rip that fucking sheet up.”

Bill doesn’t argue. He also doesn’t start packing his stuff away.

“Alright, fine.” He shrugs like he doesn’t give a shit. “Go, whatever. Thanks for your help.” 

That should be all the prompting Roman needs. It’s not like he needs Bill’s permission to leave and technically they’ve done the hour that Mrs Douglas asked of him. If he wanted, he could leave and forget about Bill until next week when they have to meet up and do this all over again. That’s what he _should_ do, but for some reason he just… can’t.

“Okay, get up.” Roman says. Bill looks up in surprise, and it’s kind of nice to see that it isn't an angry surprise. Just confused. “I’m serious. Get up and pack your shit. You should eat something, Jesus.”

Roman is not about to offer to buy Bill lunch and honestly, if the kid argues any more after this then he’s out of here. Thankfully, for once, Bill doesn’t argue back. Instead, he starts gathering his things and stuffing them into his bag any way that they’ll fit, zipping it up and slinging it over his shoulder. Roman smirks.

“Good work today, kiddo.”

“F-Fuck you,” Bill replies, maturely. It can’t hurt to try and piss him off, just a little more, so Roman falls into step behind him and ruffles Bill’s hair, noticing with interest how Bill shivers under his hand. He’s totally not going to jerk off to that later. 

They’ve just reached the cafeteria when Bill turns to him and they come to a natural stop. Roman hasn’t eaten in the cafeteria since he was fourteen years old but he knew that was where Bill was going and fucking sue him if he wanted to be a gentleman for once and walk him there. 

“Um,” Bill won’t look at him but he scuffs the toe of his shoe against the ground and holds onto the straps of his backpack. “Just… thank you, I guess, for h-helping. For real.”

What can Roman say to that? He doesn’t do sappy shit and Bill thanking him for _the help_ counts as sappy shit in Roman’s eyes. He shrugs awkwardly and then, to save face, pats Bill’s cheek like the asshole he is.

“Same time next week, Billy.” He says, and then he walks off, because otherwise he might do something stupid.


	2. Chapter 2

Bill visits this hospital every other day, and he has done for the last month and a half. If he’s ever unenthusiastic or tired he just thinks to himself Georgie is lying in one of those beds without his left arm and it probably hurts like a bitch and the least Bill could do is go and play cards with him. He’s trying to be a better brother after the accident.

The accident wasn’t Bill’s fault and the rational part of his mind knows that but he still feels sick with guilt every time he sees Georgie lying all small and pale and sickly in that big bed. There’s something so wrong about seeing someone so young looking so close to death. He doesn’t want Georgie to start thinking about how difficult the rest of his life will be with only one arm and he doesn’t want the only interaction his brother has with the outside world to be their sobbing parents so he goes, every other day without fail. Sometimes he skips school and sometimes he goes straight from school and sometimes he’ll stay overnight and turn up to school with five minutes to spare without any of his books or homework or lunch.

And he starts failing his classes.

It starts off gradual. He gets a C in his calculus class and then an F in his Lit paper. He stops sleeping and his grades start slipping and before he knows what’s happening Mrs Douglas hauls him into her office to tell him that _we’re all very sympathetic, Bill, but you need to shape up._ He’s glad they’re very sympathetic. He doesn’t know what he’d do without their sympathy. 

To be fair, the idea she presents isn’t that bad. Bill even thinks it might be his saving grace at first, because an intelligent senior tutoring him might be a terrifying prospect but it’ll be ten times better than staying behind after class with a teacher who will tell him how _very sympathetic_ they are and then how he’s _not putting any effort in_ and he _needs to try harder._ Another student won’t know anything about his situation, and if they’re doing it for extra credit then it isn’t like Bill is taking up their time without reason. That’s what he thinks at first.

Then he finds out who is going to be tutoring him, and his opinion changes a little. He’s never met Roman Godfrey but he’s heard enough about him - everyone here has - to be able to tell they probably won’t get along. Maybe it’s unfair of him to listen to the rumours and maybe he shouldn’t unfairly judge the guy before he’s even met him, and these are small doubts in the back of his mind that last right up until Roman drops his bag on the table in front of Bill and gives him a self satisfied smirk when Bill startles. Roman is an asshole, but he’s a smart asshole and it doesn’t look like he’s going to be getting out of their arrangement anytime soon. 

But he can’t be thinking about that now. He’s here with Georgie who has one fucking arm and he winces every time he moves even though he keeps saying it doesn’t hurt and the least Bill can do is give him his full attention. It isn’t enough that they have to play shitty, boring cartoons all the time, they also have to do it on the other side of the hospital so there is absolutely no chance of Georgie getting over there. Bill has played so many games of ‘Cheat’ that the playing cards have been imprinted onto his eyelids for all eternity.

“What’s wrong with you?” Georgie asks suddenly, and Bill blinks at him in surprise because honestly he’d sort of forgotten what he was doing and why.

“What are you t-talking about?” Bill asks, cheeks flushing despite his casual tone. He’s not entirely sure _what’s_ wrong with him but he reckons something is because he hasn’t been able to get his head straight all week and even Georgie has started to notice something is up now. He lays two sevens down and calls it two eights. Georgie doesn’t call cheat.

“You always let me win,” Georgie answers, as though that’s something he has any right to know. Bill goes to punch his arm lightly before he remembers that Georgie’s arm isn’t fucking there anymore and he has the sudden burning urge to burst into tears and he ruffles Georgie’s hair instead. 

“You’re just off your g-game.” His nose twitches and his throat stings with the effort of holding back tears. “Hey, you want anything from the cafeteria? I’ll get you anything you want, just don’t tell mom.”

Bill has no clue whether he has the cash on him to fulfil this promise but he absolutely cannot cry in front of Georgie because he’s not the one who got his arm ripped off and he has to be strong for his baby brother who is ten times braver than he is. He’ll steal the food if he has to - but he’s not above trying emotional blackmail first - but thankfully Georgie just asks for strawberry jello and Bill nods and lets his hair hang over his eyes to hide their redness as he shuffles away. Once he’s out of the room and heading down the hallway he presses himself to the wall and sinks down slowly, chest tight, breaths ragged, cheeks wet, life crumbling before his eyes. 

Crying kids in a hospital must be the most common thing to see so Bill isn’t expecting to be bothered, but it still catches him a little off guard when footfalls head towards him. The click of the heels against the floor stops a few feet away from him and he wipes his arm over his face, pulling himself together and looking up in time to see _Roman fucking Godfrey_ and does the world have to hate him _this much?_

“You’ve got to be f-fucking kidding me,” Bill wants to sound mean and sarcastic but he’s been crying so he just sounds nasally and that’s really fucking pathetic. He wipes his sleeve over his eyes again to hide his face and hopes irrationally that by the time he looks up again Roman will be gone and this will all have been a nightmare. He looks up. Roman is still there, leaning his shoulder against the wall and looking down at Bill as though he’s a puzzle he can’t quite figure out. 

“What are you doing here?” He asks, strangely serious. Bill takes a second to re-evaluate because Roman isn’t being as obnoxious as he usually is and they are in a hospital so Bill should probably hold off being an asshole until he makes sure Roman isn’t dying.

“Hanging out for shits and g-giggles,” Bill says. That’s not an asshole thing to say, that’s just breaking the ice. Roman cocks his head and his lips curl up into a sly smile that’s actually kind of relieving– unless Roman is a genuine sociopath who laughs when his relatives die or something fucked up like that. “What about you?”

“Pussy’s good here sometimes.” Roman shrugs, and _fuck him fuck this guy what a fucking bastard._ Bill’s anger must show on his face because he’s never been good at smiling when he wants to scowl and Roman sighs and holds out his hand for Bill to take. Bill doesn’t take it straight away.

“C’mon,” Roman rolls his eyes and wiggles his fingers in Bill’s face. When he’s left hanging again he leans over a little and brushes the pad of his thumb over Bill’s cheek, and it’s soft and shockingly intimate even though Bill knows it’s Roman so it’s the farthest thing there is from intimate. He slaps Roman’s hand away and stands up on his own.

“I’m gonna get f-food,” Bill wishes his voice didn’t break as he tried to talk but hey, you can’t have it all. Roman falls into step beside him and as much as he wishes he could lose this asshole he’s also kind of grateful for the company. Roman, he knows, isn’t going to make him talk about his feelings.

“Yeah, me too.” Roman says, and he still hasn’t told Bill why he’s in the hospital but then Bill hasn’t really told him either and the silence that settles over them is surprisingly comfortable. Bill has been here often enough now to know where he’s going like the back of his hand and he’s expecting to have to direct Roman at various points but Roman seems to know where he’s going as well, seems to be familiar enough with the place to take a left instead of a right and when they finally arrive at the cafeteria he heads straight for the counter.

“Cheese and tomato sandwich,” Roman says to the girl behind the counter. He doesn’t say please or thank you. “And whatever he wants.”

Bill looks up in sharp surprise, features drawn together into a frown because this is the second time they’ve met, why would Roman pay for his food? Bill considers the possibility that it’s to make Roman seem like a good person in front of the teenager behind the counter, but that doesn’t make any sense because from what Bill has gathered, Roman never feels the need to make himself look better, and besides, the girl is already looking at him like she wants to jump his fucking bones. He can’t have missed it. Bill certainly hasn’t.

“Roman,” he says, embarrassed to have to say this in public, even more embarrassed when he can’t even fucking say it. “You d-d-don’t have t-to–”

“Save it,” Roman tells him dismissively, like he’s rejecting Bill’s argument rather than his attempt at speech, and it’s an important distinction. Is it bad that Bill is just the tiniest bit relieved? If Roman wants to pay for his food then fuck it, he can pay for Georgie’s strawberry jello.

“So,” Roman pats the chair next to him once he takes a seat at one of the round tables and even though Bill only has the jello with him and he should be getting back to Georgie, he sits. “Did your brain finally combust from studying too much? Is that why you’re here?”

“Yep,” Bill nods and drums his fingers against the tabletop in a steady rhythm. He wishes he had something to eat, if only to have something to do with his hands. “B-Busted. I never needed t-tutoring in the first p-place.”

Roman is a messy fucking eater and it’s kind of gross to see him rip into a sandwich like he’s tearing apart a dead body or something, but Bill can’t seem to look away. There’s something so interesting about Roman’s features when he’s not paying attention to who’s watching him. He’s not vulnerable exactly - and he chews with his mouth open, gross - but it seems like he’s let his guards down in a way that he didn’t before, in school. He’s gross but he’s still so goddamn pretty and if Bill blushes now in front of Roman then that’s it, he’s done for, he’s over. He’ll never get over the shame of being momentarily - okay, whatever, permanently - attracted to the local fuckboy. Everyone knows that Roman doesn’t have feelings, doesn’t care about anything but sex and drugs and rock’n’roll, so basically it would be a really bad idea to catch feelings for him. 

“Quit staring,” Roman interrupts his thoughts and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, fucking class right there. “Why aren’t you eating?”

Rather than answer the question - he’ll throw up if he tries, he hasn’t eaten properly since the accident, doesn’t think he could keep anything down, doesn’t really want to - Bill flips it over and asks him a question right back.

“Why are you here. R-Really?” Roman stops chewing for a moment and Bill thinks briefly that the question might have rattled him, that he might finally have discovered a personality other than getting laid and getting high. 

Then Roman shrugs his shoulders and takes another bite and says through a mouthful of food, “My sister. She’s been here so long they’ll probably dedicate a ward to her soon.”

It’s a more honest answer than Bill is expecting and it leaves him a little floored, a little speechless. How can Roman say that in such a breezy, casual manner? How can he act like his sister’s permanent hospitalisation doesn’t gnaw at the edges of his mind every second of the day? Does it not tear him up inside the way it does Bill?

“I’m s-sorry,” Bill says, because it’s what you say in times like these and in all honesty, he knows he isn’t being fair. He has no idea what Roman’s relationship with his sister has been like in the past, he doesn’t even know what she’s in for, so it would be wrong of him to act like he’s got the moral upper hand. Roman is here, isn’t he? He’s visiting. That’s got to mean something.

“Forget it. I’ve fucked a bunch of hot nurses so it’s cool.” Roman shrugs again and that’s it, that’s the conversation. He cuts Bill off without a lifeline and Bill is left floundering, wanting to end this heavy blanket of silence that’s settled over them but not knowing how. He can’t just leave after Roman paid for his food and _sure, tell yourself that’s the only reason you pathetic, pining loser._

“What about you?” Roman breaks the silence in the end, and it comes as a relief until it doesn’t. “Out with it, Denbrough. Why’re you here?”

Bill opens his mouth to tell Roman to mind his own fucking business and ends up saying, “My b-b-brother. He was in an a-accident.”

“What kind of accident?” Anyone else would wince and apologise and want to change the subject as quickly as possible. That’s the polite thing to do. Of course Roman wouldn’t do that. He goes straight in for the gory details. That shouldn’t be a refreshing change but Bill desperately wants to _talk_ about this; his parents are strictly off limits because they would break down if he so much as opened his mouth about Georgie and he doesn’t want to burden his friends, as wonderful as they are, as helpful as they would be. He can’t dump all his problems on them and expect to get better, but here, with Roman, with someone who is in a similar situation… would it be so wrong to talk about it then?

“Drunk d-driver,” Bill starts, picking at a hangnail. He’s glad Roman is focusing more on his sandwich than Bill, because he doesn’t think he could talk and make eye contact. “He was w-walking home from school and they h-hit him. They didn’t stop. It ripped his f-fucking arm off.”

Bill sees Roman pause for a moment, can’t discern any surprise or discomfort or pity in his expression but knows from the way he swallows and sets his sandwich down that he wasn’t expecting that. It feels a relief to have it out, though. It feels like he’s been bottling up all his anger and his bitterness and now someone has come along and told him to just let loose. He doesn’t have to worry about being a psycho or a burden or a bore around Roman, because why should his opinion matter?

Right?

“Why aren’t you eating?” Roman asks suddenly. He’s finished his sandwich so now there’s nothing to dilute his attention away from Bill. His eyes are startlingly big and imploring– Bill begins to feel like one of the girls Roman wants to hook up which, which is absolutely ridiculous and he should stop thinking like that because nothing good can come from having a gay crush on a probably straight fuckboy. It was one thing in the library, where Roman sidled closer to Bill and brushed their legs together and was probably thinking, _‘ha, even the fags think I’m hot shit’_ but it would be different now, after Bill has opened up to him. Feelings are gay, everybody knows that.

“It’s for G-Georgie,” Bill tells him, and that’s what finally jolts him back to the real world. He’s sitting in the hospital cafeteria with Roman fucking Godfrey when he should be spending time with his little brother who almost died. He shouldn’t be here fantasising about something that would never in a million years happen. 

“I have to go.” His hands are shaking when he stands up and he clutches the pot of jello to calm down. “My b-brother’s waiting.”

Roman stands up as well, and he’s so much taller now that Bill is tuned in, paying attention. 

“You wanna come back to mine?” Bill is so confused by this turn of events that he stands dead still with his palms turned upwards, cupping his jello like it’s a fucking prayer. Is Roman really inviting him back to his home? Why does Bill want to take him up on the offer? Even if Roman just sees him as another conquest, he wants to know what it’s like inside Roman’s room, under his clothes. Bill is _not_ easy, but in his fantasies he’d totally be another conquest if it meant he got to touch Roman’s dick.

Like hell he’s ever letting Roman know that, though.

“But Georgie–”

“Afterwards,” Roman interrupts. He starts walking and Bill follows after him with hurried little steps because Roman has much longer legs and his strides take him further and further away from Bill. “I’ll wait for you. You can do your fuckin’ homework if you want. Or we could… watch a movie.”

And that– that’s not Bill’s imagination. That’s got to be _something._ Roman definitely looked Bill up and down right there in the hospital hallway like he’s just now noticing Bill for the first time. Georgie is waiting for him in his room and his parents are in the parking lot smoking their way through their fifth pack this week but Bill is here, standing in front of Roman with his hands stuffed into his pockets and his cheeks flushed, preparing to be Roman’s boy slut.

“I have to give this t-to Georgie,” Bill says softly, readying himself for a rejection. It would make things so much easier if Roman were to tell him that he couldn’t be bothered to wait, that Bill isn’t worth the trouble, that he never wanted to see him again. But Roman just smirks and pushes his hair back from his forehead with his massive hands and long, slender fingers. Bill wants to suck them into his mouth. 

“Sure,” he says, and this is reality, is real, is happening. “I’ll come with you. I think I have some chocolate in my bag.”

He’s wearing a white t-shirt with sleeves that stretch around his biceps and black jeans with a silver button that Bill wants to pop open. His hands are so big that he could probably wrap them all the way around Bill’s rib cage and Bill’s mouth falls open as Roman sucks the tip of his thumb into his mouth.

“Look alive, kiddo.” Roman gives a shit eating grin and reaches over to ruffle Bill’s hair again and he definitely noticed Bill staring. Bill ducks out of the way and slaps his hand, scowling and hoping it hides the way his cheeks flare with heat and his pulse races. 

“Do one,” Bill manages to say it without stuttering, but it doesn’t much help his dignity. Roman hooks an arm around Bill’s shoulders and tugs him closer in that way that guys do when they’re being the no-homo type of friendly that guys always are.

“Wow, Billy, so mature. Watch your language, you fucking potty mouth.”

Bill shakes him off before they get to Georgie’s room– even though he wants the opposite, wants to nuzzle into Roman’s side, the warmth he’s radiating, hates that he wants that. The loss of Roman’s heavy arm around his neck seems devastating.

“This is it,” he says, feeling awkward suddenly. “You could, like, w-wait outside.” 

Roman leans down to peer through the window and god, he’s so tall, he dwarfs Bill even though Bill is taller than all his friends. “Okay,” he shrugs, easy, casual, unbothered by anything life throws at him. It’s annoying and sickeningly endearing at the same time. “Give him this, yeah?”

Bill looks down to see that he’s holding out a beaten up snickers bar. It’s a little crushed and probably too old to be tasty but Bill’s heart flutters.

“C-Cool,” Bill swallows, deliriously grateful his voice doesn’t break. “Thanks. I’ll be out in a s-sec.”

“Can’t wait, sweetheart.” _Fuck him so much, he knows what he’s doing._

Georgie is already sitting up when Bill goes in, propped up against the pile of pillows behind him. He’s trying to sneak a look out the window as well, but Roman is too tall and all that’s visible is his back and the curve where his waist meets his hips. Maybe Bill stares for a second longer than necessary, sue him.

Bill is kind of worried Georgie is going to ask what took him so long or who the person outside is, but he’s always been a perceptive kid so he just shrugs and holds his hand out for his jello. Bill hands the jello and the chocolate over without a word, feeling guilty enough without seeing how Georgie struggles to stay balanced.

“Is he your friend, Billy?” Georgie asks, deceptively casual, around a spoonful of jello. Bill swallows nervously and his shoulders hunch, a clear indication that he’s lying.

“Yeah,” Bill says, because it’s kind of the truth. Explaining the whole situation would be way too complicated: that he and Roman have spoken one time, that Roman will fuck anything that moves, that Bill wants very much to go to bed with him. “I’m g-gonna go hang out with him for a b-bit. Is that okay?”

Georgie nods. “As long as you bring me more chocolate next time?”

Bill grins crookedly. “Sure thing,” He gives Georgie a brief, tight hug. When he pulls away, Georgie glances off to the side.

“Billy?” He starts, and his features twist into something confused, something uncomfortable, something a little frightened. Then the expression has vanished and he smiles and takes a bite of the chocolate Roman gave him. “Have fun.”

Bill’s going to try. 


	3. Chapter 3

Roman’s house is exactly how Bill would have imagined it: fucking massive. The guy lives in a literal mansion, with diamond latticed windows and an entrance hall with the biggest sweeping staircase Bill has ever seen, in or out of a movie. It even has a glass chandelier hanging from the fucking ceiling. 

Roman is _rich._

Of course, Bill had known that from the beginning. Everyone in town knows about the Godfrey family and their ties to the neighbourhood. Probably a fifth of the population live in properties owned by Talia and the school’s new library was funded by a sizeable donation from Roman’s family, so obviously Bill knew their house would be nice. He just didn’t expect it to be _this_ nice.

“Wow,” he murmurs, too awed to be self conscious. His house could probably fit in here five times over with room to spare, and it’s a little embarrassing be standing there in his tatty jeans and his sneakers with the holes in them. He kind of wishes he could pull out his phone right now and start sending pictures to his friends, because they’d never believe him otherwise, but Roman is already turning to him and rolling his eyes.

“Don’t cream yourself, shortstack. It’s whatever. You want something to drink?” It certainly isn’t just _whatever_ and Roman walks right past the kitchen and towards the stairs without stopping, but Bill Just follows after him like a lost puppy because what else can you do in that situation? Has anyone ever been in this situation before?

“I’m g-good, thanks.” He resists the urge to roll his eyes at the pictures hung up on the corridor walls. Roman’s face looms over him from almost every angle, and there’s another girl in the picture too, pretty but half hidden in shadows like she didn’t want to get too close to the camera, and Bill has to assume that’s his sister.

His shoes are tracking mud onto the carpet but Roman doesn’t ask him to take them off so he doesn’t. When they get to Roman’s bedroom, Bill wraps his arms around his middle and kicks the door shut behind them at Roman’s request.

“So,” Bill swallows, awkward, uncomfortable, wondering why he came here in the first place and wondering why he doesn’t want to leave. “This is w-where you sleep?”

Roman raises an eyebrow, like Bill’s attempt at smalltalk is embarrassing which it probably is but he doesn’t have to be so _blatant_ about it. He shrugs, loose, relaxed, one shoulder dropped low.

“Amongst other things,” he says, and grins.

And then, out of fucking nowhere, he starts stripping.

“Woah, shit, okay.” Bill blurts out and, for whatever reason, spins around like he’s trying to protect Roman’s modesty. It’s such a dumb move and it makes Bill look like he’s ten years old and of course Roman picks up on it with his smug, self satisfied smile and his sexy abs.

“What, you’ve never seen tits before, Denbrough?” Roman snickers, and he half twists his torso to pick up a clean t-shirt from his bed and his skin goes tight and taught over the muscle in his stomach and god, Bill wants to put his hands on him, wants to lick from his waist to his chest. If only Roman wasn’t such an asshole, Bill wouldn’t feel his cheeks heating up whenever he tries to check the fucker out.

“Fuck off. You d-don’t have to be so gross all the t-time.” Bill spits out, although in truth he doesn’t know who Roman would be without all the trash talk. Dude would probably get on well with Richie, but Bill is definitely not going to introduce them. He doesn’t exactly fancy having to deal with double the dick jokes.

“Aw, babe, don’t get upset.” Roman says, and he’s so condescending and so smug and so fucking hot and he _still_ hasn’t put another shirt on that Bill _has_ to touch him, can’t help it when he reaches out and grabs Roman’s forearm and digs his nails in. Roman pauses, shifts, frowns. The shirt drops from his hand to the floor in a crumpled heap and Bill stares at it so that he won’t have to look Roman in the eye.

“What,” Roman says, but his voice is softer now, lower, more purposeful. “Is this where we fistfight?” He tugs his arm gently out of Bill’s hand and instead grips Bill’s chin between his thumb and his forefinger, tilting his head up slightly. Bill’s heart is pounding in his chest when Roman leans down so that their faces are very, very close together and murmurs, “You think you could take me?”

And god, fuck, what is Bill doing? Being here is such a bad idea and and touching Roman was a _terrible_ idea and seriously,even just _knowing_ Roman is a terrible idea, so is Bill really about to–

Bill surges forward and kisses him. It takes Roman by surprise, that’s clear in the way he stumbles backwards with the force of Bill’s body against his. It’s wet and messy and Bill cuts his lip on Roman’s teeth but it feels electric when their tongues slide together and _yeah motherfucker I think I could take you._

One of Roman’s hands curls possessively around the curve of Bill’s waist and pulls him closer, closer until their chests are flush together, Roman’s bare skin warm even through Bill’s t-shirt. His other hand skirts up the outside of Bill’s thigh and settles over the swell of his ass, squeezes, uses his position to pull their hips closer together. Bill gasps into the kiss and they break apart briefly, just long enough for Roman to spin them around and push Bill flat on his back on the bed.

“You’re such a fucking tease, Denbrough,” Roman is saying, hoarse and turned on in between laboured breaths and is he? A tease? He hadn’t realised it but maybe this whole time Bill was sending out some sort of weird gay signal that Roman picked up on. Bill is suddenly struck by the enormity of what he’s doing: ditching his hospitalised baby brother so that he can– what? Lose his virginity to the biggest fuckboy in school? Does he really think Roman has feelings because his sister that he refuses to talk about has been in hospital for a long time?

And then - Robert’s fingers grapple with the button on Bill’s jeans - why would Roman tell him? For all he knows - Bill doesn’t stop him - Roman could be going to therapy or sobbing to his parents every night or - Bill’s hard now, and Roman is too, he can feel it pressing against his thigh - talking about his _emotions_ with his stoner friend Peter. Does Bill really have the right to judge him when he barely knows him?

It feels like he does when Roman calls him a _slutty fucking cocktease,_ when he says things like, “Hide your pretty fucking body under all these boy scout clothes, don’t you?” It really feels like he does when Roman peels off his white ankle socks one by one and forces his legs apart with a large hand, fingers splayed wide, on the inside of both of Bill’s thighs.

Bill can feel his heartbeat in his cock and that doesn’t explain why he’s even considering this when he _barely knows_ Roman but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t want to. Roman leaves scratches on Bill’s stomach in his haste to get his t-shirt off, thin, stinging white lines that fade to red marks within seconds. Bill is shivering all over, left in only his boxers, spread out on Roman’s bed like a _slutty fucking cocktease_ whilst Roman himself still has his jeans on. It’s not fair and Bill tries to express this but then Roman latches onto his nipple and sucks and rubs the wetted pad of his thumb in maddeningly slow circles around the other and suddenly the only noises he can make are high pitched whines and breathy, whorish moans. 

Bill spreads his legs on his own this time, bent at the knees with his feet flat on the bed so that Roman can crawl between them. Bill is sort of terrified that Roman is going to want to have sex with him right now and even though Roman probably already knows it, it’ll be mortifying if he has to say he’s a virgin with his dick hard and his chest bitten red.

But Roman doesn’t ask, doesn’t suggest, just keeps muttering filth under his breath like he’s talking to himself. Bill feels overwhelmed by sensation. He’s dizzy and flushed warm all over and hearing Roman say things like, “Wanna tie you up, fuck you so hard you cry, gonna make you come on my cock, sweetheart,” really doesn’t help. He’s so turned on it hurts where his cock is trapped in the confines of his underwear and he can’t get his tongue to wrap around the words properly so he just throws an arm around Roman’s neck and digs his fingernails into Roman’s shoulder and rubs up against his hip.

The first brush of his dick against Roman’s hipbone has him falling apart, tears welling up under his eyelids. A wet spot forms on the fabric of his underwear where the tip of his cock leaks precome and Roman’s sharp inhale has him proud, as pathetic as that is, that he at least managed to have an effect to someone who does this stuff full time.

“Roman,” Bill breathes, kind of wishing he was on top so he could hide his face in Roman’s shoulder. Roman’s gaze is so intense that he has to shut his eyes, turn his face away, feel the tickle of breath against his cheek as his hair falls across his forehead. Roman seems to have taken Bill’s lead in a bizarre twist of fate because the next thing Bill knows, Roman is grinding their hips together in a slow, tight circle. Bill’s thighs tremble and he’s one hundred percent going to come in his underwear like the massive dorky virgin he is. He’ll have to change his identity and move state to avoid the shame that will inevitably follow.

But Roman just tilts Bill’s chin up again and kisses him like he’s stealing the breath from his lungs. Roman fucking dominates when he kisses, and now he’s slipped his thigh in between Bill’s legs to shake things up a bit and Bill fucks into it, chases the delicious pressure and rides Roman’s thigh until he’s sweaty and humiliated and desperate to come.

“You gonna come just like that, Billy?” Roman teases, and one hand is flat against the bed next to Bill’s head propping him up and the other is stuffed inside his pants, working quickly over his cock. His jeans are still on but they’ve been shoved down to his thighs and Bill’s lips part when Roman pulls his cock out of his underwear and strokes himself hard and fast and tight.

“You gonna fucking ignore me when I ask you a question?” Roman hisses, sounding genuinely furious. Bill bites his lip and his back arches off the bed as he feels his body go tight, chest constrict, thighs tense up as his orgasm rips through his body. Roman talks him through it, brushes his lips, wet with Bill’s saliva, against the lobe of Bill’s ear and murmurs, “Course not. You’re gonna thank me like a good boy, aren’t you? Thank me for letting you come, letting you ride my thigh like a little bitch.”

Bill comes inside of his boxers, leaving a dark stain and a gross feeling against his softening dick. He doesn’t have any time to do anything about it though, because Roman is crawling further up the bed and straddling Bill’s chest, jerking off onto Bill’s face. Bill is panting, mouth open to catch his breath, so when Roman starts to come with a low groan it streaks across his cheek and lips and tongue. He doesn’t know what to do, so he waits until Roman is finished and has slumped down onto the bed next to him before licking his lips and swallowing what’s in his mouth. He’ll take a shower later to clean up the rest.

Roman shifts to lie on his side facing Bill, and he huffs out a fond looking smile, even though that doesn’t make any sense.

“You look good with my come on your face.” He says, and Bill isn’t sure what to make of that. It’s not exactly a compliment but it’s not exactly _slutty little cocktease_ either so he allows himself a small smile and doesn’t say anything in return. He’d only be gushing about how sexy Roman is and he can’t risk heightening the other man’s ego so he keeps silent.

He really doesn’t mean to fall asleep. He’s expecting Roman to get up and kick him out at any moment, having gotten what he wanted, but Roman stays in bed and eventually even pulls the duvet up over both of them, so Bill stays too. He has to kick his boxers off so that he doesn’t feel too disgusting and he tells himself not to fall asleep, repeats it over and over in his head like a silent mantra.

Inevitably, he does. They both do, and when Bill wakes up, their legs are tangled together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got [tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/tiigixox) There’s nothing there yet but if you want you can send me prompts :D


	4. Chapter 4

Roman knows he shouldn’t have slept with the guy. Technically he didn’t sleep with Bill, so by all rights he should be off the hook, but Roman knows Bill and there were dicks involved and it wasn’t even like it came out of nowhere so he’s definitely not going to be able to sweep it under the rug like his other escapades.

And it’s worse that he still has to see Bill once a week in the library, has to keep tutoring him until the end of the term. It’s not even like he can pretend to have been drunk and forgetful, or to just blank Bill like he’s done with some especially clingy guys and girls before. He’s just going to have to… face the music.

Peter isn’t impressed. He’s amused, because he always enjoys watching Roman squirm in discomfort, but he doesn’t get why Roman can’t just blow him off, sit through an hour of tutoring once a week without feeling either awkward or turned on. He thinks Roman’s going soft and fuck it, maybe he is, because when he shows up in the library to see Bill already sitting at their table waiting for him, it ignites something in him that he didn’t even know existed. It’s possessive and fond all at once, the type of feeling that tells him he isn’t sure whether or not he wants to sleep with Bill or not but he sure as hell doesn’t want him sleeping with anyone else. That’s fucked up but Roman has always been fucked up and there’s just nothing he can do about that.

Bill doesn’t look at him until he’s sitting down, keeps his eyes trained on the book open in front of him. Roman wants to attract his attention, wants Bill to look at him, to want him. 

“Sup, loser?” Roman slides into the seat and steals Bill’s textbook out from under his nose.

“Sup, yourself.” Bill shoots him a withering glare, which is also a relief in itself. Mornings after are always awkward enough, but it’s worse when the girl - or guy, rare but clearly not impossible - seems to be obsessed with him. Peter would say that that’s Roman’s ego talking and maybe it is but it’s also right. He’s hot and he’s rich and people that sleep with him tend to get clingy, so Bill’s disdain is a refreshing if insulting change.

“What, you’re too cool for me now?” Roman flicks through the textbook, making sure to bend the spine and crease the pages whenever he can. “You gonna pass your test without me, huh?”

“Don’t be a d-dick,” Bill says, reserved and resigned. Roman is reminded suddenly of the hospital, of Bill sitting alone with his head in his hands and tears streaming down his face and he can’t breathe, can’t look, has to clench his jaw until he returns to normal. Whatever that was, he didn’t fucking like it.

“I thought you liked my dick?” He grins lecherously, raising his voice just enough to have Bill glaring in discomfort. There aren’t many people around to hear anyway, and the people that spend their free time in the library aren’t the sort of people who will try to spread homophobic shit about Roman behind his back, but Bill’s hands still curl into fists and he snatches his book back aggressively.

“I’ve seen b-bigger,” he replies, which is obviously a lie that Roman is going to point out. Bill may be cute and all, but nobody insults Roman’s dick and gets away with it.

“Oh really, kid?” Bill’s anger is titillating, why he keeps pushing even after he should have given up. Roman never knows when to stop. “I’ve never had any complaints before, but hey, maybe you know better than I do. Tell me, how many of the chicks here have you fucked?”

Bill grits his teeth and looks away sharply, a pretty pink colour dusting his cheekbones. Roman notices the freckles scattered across the bridge of Bill’s nose for the first time and his heart does some painful and unpleasant flip inside his chest.

“What, you getting shy on me now? C’mon, don’t worry, we’re all babe magnets here, right?” Roman reaches over and tucks a strand of Bill’s hair behind his ear. It’s too short to stay there and it falls forward again immediately, so Roman improvises by brushing his fingertip over the shell of Bill’s ear in a light, teasing motion. Bill blushes again, harder this time, until his face is blotchy and red and embarrassed. 

“J-Just mark my f-fucking paper, would you?” He shoves a test paper in Roman’s general direction and doesn’t look back until Roman takes it from his hand. Honestly, he shouldn’t be letting Bill get away with being such a little bitch - if anyone else had such a prissy attitude with him then he’d correct them far sooner - but maybe he has been an asshole to Bill. He did seduce the boy, take him home, get him off and then make fun of him the next day. Maybe he should cut Bill some slack.

“You waiting for a thank you or something? F-Fucking do it.” Bill scowls, arms crossed over his chest angrily, and, nope. Roman should not cut Bill any slack.

“Since when did you get so fucking pushy? I thought good dick was supposed to chill you out. Why are you even more uptight than usual?”

“I’m not  _ uptight,”  _ Bill protests, sounding very uptight as he does it. “I just don’t like it w-when you act like a–”

“Like a what?” Roman leans over the table as far as he can without it getting uncomfortable and captures Bill’s gaze. They’re so close that Roman can see the different colours of Bill’s irises, can feel breath against his face. Bill falters, looks away.

“Whatever,” he mutters, embarrassed, unhappy. Roman has won, but he can’t remember why it was important to him in the first place. Bill doesn’t say anything else for the rest of the hour.

***

Roman caves approximately three hours later. He’s hit a new low and he knows it but there’s something inexplicable about the way he wants to be near Bill. Bill seems so small in comparison to Roman, not just in physicality but in everything else– Roman could just wrap him up and keep him forever locked away safe and sound. He has no idea why that sounds as appealing as it does, but it aches like a hole in his chest and he eventually had to slide his phone out of his pocket and type out a message just to get it to go away.

_ ‘Come over?’  _ He sends. It’s basic and makes him seem like even more of a fuckboy than he already is, but Bill reads the message in under five minutes so he counts it as a success. Even if Bill doesn’t reply for another… half an hour.

_ ‘What do you want??’  _ He asks. It’s a valid question and Roman can’t really answer it for him. He wants to fuck Bill, to have him naked and spread out and crying on Roman’s bed, but he also wants him curled up on the coach in front of the TV, at the kitchen table, talking, laughing. Is Roman that much of an emotionally inept loser that he craves intimacy from a fucking freshman? 

Apparently so.

_ ‘Watch a movie??’ _

_ ‘Nice try,’  _ Bill sends back within seconds, which has got to be progress.  _ ‘But I’m not falling for that.’ _

_ Falling for that.  _ Like Roman is trying to trick him, as if he tricked him last time. Bill started it, Bill was fucking  _ begging  _ for it last time and anger surges up hot and unexpected from somewhere low down in Roman’s chest, but he swallows it down and breathes deeply. The desire for bill to come over is remarkably greater than his desire to remind Bill of what a noisy little slut he’d been last time they’d been together here.

Thankfully he doesn’t get a chance to make things worse, because a few minutes later Bill is texting him anyway. Roman smirks. Whatever he wants to say, whatever pretence he wants to put up, Bill is fucking into it.

_ ‘Couldn’t get to you anyway. Can’t drive’ _

Finally, a problem Roman knows how to solve. He doesn’t bother asking for Bill’s permission or not because it’s more likely he’ll say yes if Roman’s car is literally on his doorstep. He’s on the phone with his driver almost instantly before he realises he doesn’t even know Bill’s address. He hesitates on the phone.

“You think you can find the Denbroughs’ house, Sam?” Roman asks, voice lilting upwards into a satisfied smile. Sam has lived here decades– if Roman gives him a name, he can find a house. It’s probably part of why Roman’s mother has kept him around for so long.

Roman is only a little ashamed to admit that he sits upright on the edge of his bed after that with his eyes glued to his phone, watching the minutes tick by and waiting for an angry message from Bill. When it eventually comes, it’s everything Roman hoped it would be and more. 

_ ‘ROMAN WHAT THE FUCK??’ _

_ ‘WHY IS THERE A FANCY FUCKING CAR OUTSIDE MY HOUSE????’ _

_ ‘Fancy watching a film? ;)’  _ Roman sends, and instantly hates himself. Jesus, is he in middle school? Is he asking his crush to send a selfie? What’s with the winky face?

Thankfully Bill doesn’t comment on it, probably because he’s too busy freaking out about the family car Roman sent to pick him up. He’s expecting another angry message about how Roman is a privileged asshole or how he doesn’t deserve such a nice car or whatever, but he’s lucky enough to instead receive a picture.

Bill’s face is just as cute on his screen, especially when it’s scrunched up in anger like it is now. He’s sitting in the car, snapping a picture of himself next to the built in television. Maybe Roman was a little overkill, but it paid off in the end so he can’t bring himself to care.

_ ‘ETA?’  _ Roman asks, thinking maybe he can prepare a drink or a snack by the time Bill arrives and seriously, what the fuck? Thoughts like that haven’t crossed his mind in years and here he is, a whole eighteen years of age, wandering if he has enough time to butter his popcorn before his playdate arrives.

Not that he’d mind playing with Bill again. He had enough fun the first time. He’d just ideally like to keep non-sexy food out of the equation.

_ ‘Ten minutes, according to your creepily polite driver.’  _ Bill tells him. Roman wishes he was in the car with Bill– it would be fun to see him freak out over all the things he’s never seen before, never been able to touch before. Roman could open him up to a whole new realm of possibilities and the most worrying thing of all is that he doesn’t even mean that sexually. Well he does, but not entirely, so it’s still weird.

Bill is just a whole different person than what he’s used to. They couldn’t be friends. Shelley would probably like him, but then she has always had a soft spot for anyone who isn’t inherently like Roman or Peter. He can’t blame her; they’ve always had to look after each other, ever since it became apparent that their mother was too much of a piece of shit to do it properly. But Bill is just… different. Bill is good. Roman wants to get him dirty.

_ ‘He’s even nicer if you suck his dick’  _ Roman says, just because he knows how Bill will react. First he’ll blush, then he’ll scowl, then he’d tell Roman that he was an asshole and try to get away from him. It should be worrying that he can already predict Bill so well, but instead it’s a welcome change.

_ ‘You’re hilarious.’  _ Bill replies. Roman agrees. It’s nice to finally be appreciated.

Before he can think of something witty to reply - which is concerning again, because that shit usually comes naturally to him - Bill has sent another message and Roman hurries to read it.

_ ‘Thanks for inviting me or whatever’ _

Roman smiles. This may be the first time he’s managed to just defuse an argument, patch up a relationship. Maybe it’s Bill, maybe it’s the way Roman wants to act around Bill, but whatever it is, he wants to keep it.

He doesn’t know what will happen when Bill gets here, but he’s willing to take a chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a lot more billwise planned so stay tuned :D


End file.
